The Melancholy of Catarina Roux
by fraisei
Summary: Jim Moriarty's friendless. Enter Catarina Roux— a girl with a biting attitude, an arrogantly high social status, and the shame of playing with action figures. Years pass by, and Jim finds himself growing more and more protective of his companion, as Cat finds herself growing more and more loyal to hers. In the end, friends stick together through love, loss, and the fun of murder.
1. Goats, Spiders, and Stupid Cats

When Jim Moriarty was two years old, his father left his family.

When he was five, his mother committed suicide.

At the age of seven, he was finally adopted by a couple in their sixties who lavished him with attention and love and everything he could ever want.

Everything except for a friend.

And so Jim Moriarty found himself friendless all throughout his grade school years. He didn't really mind. He had his pet goat, his pet cat, his fairytale books, Ethel and Frank Westwood (his brand new guardians), and the lazy black widow spider that sat in his bedroom corner. Every night Ethel would give Jim a cookie, pour him some milk, then pat him on his head and send him to bed. Too ashamed to tell her that he wanted a bedtime story, he had her read from his favorite fairytale book to the spider in the corner. He would listen intently; he wanted to be an author when he grew up.

And so Jim Moriarty found his luck running out when the Powers family moved to London. Carl Powers was mean, but for some reason Jim could not fathom, everyone loved him. They would clap him on the back when he tripped people in the hallway or, in a very ungentlemanly manner, Jim thought, refused to give up his seat to girls. Jim often came home complaining to his adoptive parents, and they would look at each other and just listen, too afraid to shatter the simple innocence of a nine-year-old child.

But, fortunately, Carl Powers' arrival didn't bring complete misfortune. With him came his half-sister from his father's side, Catarina Roux. Catarina was rather spoiled by her father, a tycoon who was about as fond of Carl as his daughter was; not very much.

She told everyone to call her Cat.

With chocolate-brown locks and a fiery temper to boot, Cat clawed her way up the grade-school social ladder, stepping on heads and making enemies and friends along the way. One of the heads she stepped on was Jim's; naturally, she didn't look down until he grabbed her foot and yanked her back to eye level.

"What are you doing?" Jim asked impatiently. Cat was taking forever in the lunch line.

"What does it look like? I'm picking my lunch."

"No, you're not. You're standing around gossiping with your friends."

"About lunch."

"Yeah, right. I heard you. You definitely weren't talking about lunch."

"Really? What were we talking about, then, Mr. Smartypants? Why don't you just go play with your goat?"

Jim's face felt hot. "Well, why don't _you _go play with your brother's action figures?"

Playing with action figures was completely unacceptable for a girl Cat's age. That was almost as bad as climbing up the slide while there was an entire slide line waiting. Cat knew this, and pretty soon, she and Jim were on the floor wrestling with one another (and she was winning).

They sat in the office twiddling their thumbs as they waited for their guardians to show up. Cat was worried about what would happen to her little dog; would her father give it to Carl?

Jim, on the other hand, realized how disappointed Mummy Ethel and Mister Frank would be in him. He felt like crying, but he absolutely refused to when stupid Catarina Roux was sitting right next to him. What if they gave him back to the foster home? He liked listening to the spider being read to from the fairytale book, and he liked playing with his goat, and he liked petting his cat.

Kitten. He liked petting his kitten. Not his cat. Anything but Cat. He glanced over at her.

Meanwhile, Cat knew how bad this situation was for both of them. She definitely noticed her classmate sitting next to her, looking as though he was on the verge of tears. So, deciding to be the mature one (or however mature a nine-year-old could be), she leaned over.

"I'm sorry," she said. He looked over at her in disbelief. "I really am. I shouldn't have attacked you or called you Mr. Smartypants or told you to go play with your goat." There. That problem was solved. Now she could tell her father that she said sorry with a clear conscience. It wasn't like she expected a reply from Jacob or George or whatever his name was anyway.

"I'm sorry, too," he said. Cat looked up in surprise, starting to feel guilty again for thinking only of herself. "I shouldn't have told all of your friends that you play with action figures."

"How did you figure that out anyway?"

"I found one in your backpack when I borrowed that pencil from you."

Cat frowned, trying to remember when she loaned a pencil to this scrawny kid. She sighed and gave up when she found nothing.

"Well, isn't that nice? Jim, Catarina, the two of you could have solved the situation without the use of violence," the vice principal said from the doorway, causing the duo to jump. She smiled. "Mr. Westwood, Mrs. Westwood, Mr. Roux, you can come in, now."

Ethel swept in and hugged Jim. "I'm proud of you. We came in around the time the girl started apologizing."

Jim smiled. He looked at Catarina, who was smiling in delight when her father announced he'd buy her another dog. She looked at him and her smile grew, and she waved.

That was the day Jim Moriarty was no longer friendless.

* * *

><p><strong>I am so, so sorry for starting another WIP. Seriously. So sorry.<strong>

**This one's been sitting in the back of my mind for a while, though. Even Jim Moriarty needs a friend. However, I still have two other stories, but this one's been gathering dust on my Doc Manager, so I posted it. I won't update this as frequently as TJtI or TMWAB.**

**Also, look for Catarina Roux on my profile. She'll be up there soon for you if you ever need an OC. All of my OCs are on my profile.**

**Please review!**


	2. Birthdays and Bikes

After six full months of being friends, Jim was now officially one year older than Catarina; she was the only one at his birthday "party", and she got to meet Mummy Ethel and Mr. Frank (which was now what she officially called both of them). It had been awkward at first for her since she was used to the towering ceilings of her father's estate. However, she didn't really have the heart to tell Jim that his house was almost claustrophobic, partly because he was so excited to show her around and partly because she was growing to like the small space. She always felt alone and the only person she'd ever had to play with was Carl because all her friends felt intimidated by her and never really liked coming over.

Jim took her to the living room (with the floral patterned couches?) and Cat tried not to look too uncomfortable as she smoothed out her pink dress and adjusted her white cashmere scarf. These were the two things she absolutely could not ruin; her father got the scarf from China and the dress was from Russia. But she supposed the couch looked clean enough and Jim's goat seemed well-mannered. She sat and took the goat, finding its bleats to be quite cute.

"What did you say his name was?"

"Geoffrey. G-E-O-F-F-R-E-Y."

"Geoffrey. Right. Good Geoffrey, then."

Jim's face suddenly felt his face flush hot with embarrassment as Cat awkwardly petted the goat on her lap. He should have listened to Mummy Ethel; inviting over Cat was _not _a good idea. Right now, she seemed very nervous about being in such a small place.

This was the day that Jim always remembered as the first time he'd ever felt ashamed for being financially average.

He watched Cat absentmindedly stroke Geoffrey's neck as her eyes wandered around the living room.

"Do you wanna go outside?" Jim asked tensely. Cat looked at him gratefully (although she had obviously attempted to look discrete while doing it) and picked up Geoffrey as they left the living space. She stood and all but sashayed outside elegantly (whilst holding a goat under her right arm).

Cat stepped into the driveway and set Geoffrey down.

"Now what?"

Jim shrugged. "We could ride our bikes. I think Mummy Ethel might have a spare."

Cat paled. "No."

"Why not? We could ride down to the city, it's not that far, and—"

"No!" Cat snapped.

"Why?" Jim replied in the same sharp tone.

"'Cause I said so, that's why!"

"You're so mean!" Jim whimpered.

"You're so stupid!" Cat snapped.

"I bet you can't even ride a bike!"

Cat's mouth curled into a sneer, then she sucked in her cheeks, then a bright shade of red tinged her face. Realization dawned upon Jim.

"You _can't _ride a bike, can you?"

His friend huffed and straightened her back, letting one hand rest over the other regally in front of herself. "I am the daughter of one of the most influential businessmen in the country. I have no time for riding bikes," she replied haughtily (not bothering to mention that she had nearly nothing to do with her father's business other than spending the money he earned).

"Okay, but do you know how to ride a bike?"

"I own four. Of course I know how." In actuality, Catarina owned zero.

"Prove it," Jim said, pulling a bike out of his garage and walking it to his friend, who regarded it like one getting ready to touch a large slug.

"I can't," she said. "Look at my dress. It's from China, and my scarf is from Russia."

"I thought you said the dress was from Russia and the scarf was from China."

"That bicycle is much too small, anyway," Catarina crossed her arms and turned her nose up at the contraption as though it was the worst thing she had ever seen. "I'm taller than you, so that bike won't work."

Wordlessly, Jim adjusted the seat to Cat's height. "That should work," he said smugly. "Ride. Now."

Lo and behold, after much prodding and teasing (maybe a competitive nature _wasn't _the best thing to have in certain situations), Cat could not ride a bike. In her shoes from Australia, a strap broke. In her dress from Russia, a hole was torn at the hem. In her scarf from China, the beautiful cashmere fringes frayed. She limped back to her friend, who was smiling a bit unsympathetically.

"Maybe we should teach you," he said to her with a grin. She glared, and he picked up the bike by its handles and showed her how to ride.

* * *

><p><strong>I was working on <em>Ghost <em>and realized just how close "Catarina" is to "Katya". Oh, well.**


End file.
